I work for a small, Midwestern company specializing in the development and manufacture of unique hybrid materials useful in both commercial and military products. My business card reads, "Lewis Carmichael, Director of non-Commercial Marketing and Sales."
It doesn't sound like much, but there are only two other individuals that rank higher than I do in our forty-two employee company. One of them is Cameron Wilson. He's the Vice President of Commerce and reports only to the President and CEO of the company.
Cameron and I have been working for almost two years to develop opportunities within the United States government. Our work began to show progress when a shadowy, three letter alphabet agency contacted us about eight months ago.
We managed to negotiate a meeting with representatives of the agency. The meeting was postponed for five weeks while Cameron and I were vetted for security clearances sufficient to be allowed to meet with the government people and another, seven weeks to also vet Alexandria Devon. Alex is brilliant and the lead developer in our metallurgy, plastics and organics integration department. She's also personable and easy to look at, making her a must attendee with the government agents.
The three of us headed for San Antonio for a week of meetings without knowing specifically where the meetings were to be held. All we knew, is that we were booked into a hotel near the center of the city from Sunday night through the following Saturday. That means we planned travel to San Antonio on Sunday and return the following Saturday morning.
We were required to ship all our presentation materials, including samples and prospective contract materials to the hotel at least a week before the meetings and bring nothing except a blank notebook and writing materials to the meeting. No smart phones or recording instruments of any kind.
Cameron, Alex and I arrived in San Antonio on a Sunday afternoon in March and checked into the hotel. We were assigned adjacent, non-connecting rooms at the end of a hallway on the ninth floor. Cameron's room on the corner of the building had a conference table with windows on two walls and we gathered there late in the afternoon to finalize our approach for the next day. The environment was unusual enough that we were all careful to discuss only items that were non-controversial and, hopefully, not classified.
We brought copies of everything we had shipped to the hotel the previous week. We laid it all out on the table and went through our presentation for the twentieth time. We packed everything away and went to a late dinner in the hotel restaurant. We ate modestly, without alcohol, and retired to our rooms for a long rest before meeting the agency representatives the next morning. I didn't sleep well, wondering about how the next day might develop.
Dressed conservatively, we met for breakfast at the same table in the restaurant. Suits and ties were unusual at work and home and I was slightly uncomfortable in one of the two new suits I had purchased for the meeting. Cameron wore his suit like the uniform it was. I knew he was a West Point graduate and probably used to formal wear. Alex, on the other hand, looked amazing in her blue striped, pencil skirt suit and silk blouse. She had her long brown hair up in a high pony tail similar to how she usually had it at work. I had the fleeting thought that she was sexier in her suit than her usual jeans and untucked button downed shirts.
After breakfast, we waited, as instructed, in the hotel lobby for our hosts. Exactly on time, two men, dressed casually, approached us. We identified ourselves and presented our business cards. They introduced themselves and Bob and Ray, probably not their real names and no last names. Their business cards simply said "Bob" and "Ray." They handed us badges with our names and pictures on them and told us to follow them.
In the elevator, Bob blocked the access panel with his body and punched in four numbers. We descended to a basement level. We followed Bob through a tunnel, followed by Ray, to another elevator. Bob pushed an unlabeled button on the control panel and we rose. The elevator door opened at a security check point at the end of a long hallway. We were all, including Bob and Ray, searched and wanded. Alex was required to check her purse, Cameron relinquished the keys to the rental car with its electronic key fob and I left a memory stick containing supplemental information I thought we might need.
Bob scowled when he saw the memory stick. He led us down the hallway to a small, windowless room with a conference table, five chairs and a coffee station with five mugs.
The morning session was quite short. Bob and Ray both indicated that they had reviewed, more likely digested, the material we had forwarded and we quickly began to answer a series of questions. I had anticipated one area of potential concern and, when the issue arose, I told Bob and Ray the information they wanted was on the thumb drive left at the security station. Bob got a sheet of paper and a pencil, wood naturally, and asked me to write down the file name and location on the drive.
Bob and Ray both left us alone in the room with a "Make yourselves comfortable. We'll be back soon."
"Soon" was an idiomatic metaphor. They were gone almost two hours. We busied ourselves as best we could, drinking coffee and napping, afraid to openly discuss what was happening since we were sure the room was being monitored.
Near one pm, another gentleman brought in a tray of five sandwiches, five bags of chips, five apples and five bottles of water. He left without introducing himself. The sandwiches were basic fare, a long way from what we catered for meetings at home. We were hungry, so we ate. It was something to do while we waited.
About twenty minutes later, Bob and Ray returned. When I inquired about the thumb drive, they told us they had reviewed the information and were satisfied with the information. Another hour of questions later, we were finished.
Bob stood. "We're satisfied with the information you've presented and we think some parts of your technology could be integral to our efforts."
We still had no idea what their "efforts" were.
"We'll meet at the same time tomorrow to discuss the contractual specifics," he concluded.
We reversed course, picked up Alex's purse, the car keys and my thumb drive and parted with Bob and Ray in the hotel lobby. It was only four pm. We headed for Cameron's room and the conference table.
We had several immediate reactions to the meeting with a government agency so secret we still didn't know their acronym. First, we didn't have a clue what they did or how an unspecified part of our technology would fit in to their plans.
Second, we also didn't know where we had actually held the meeting.
Third, we didn't know how to begin to review the contractual language without information about who they were, what they wanted, what they wanted it for and what they were willing to pay for it.
Other than that, we felt confident that the meeting had gone well.
We had an early dinner and took a walk outside as the sun was setting. We guessed about how far and in what direction we had walked in the tunnel. Only one building seemed possible. It was a large windowless, cube of bricks and mortar that filled most of the block. The only label, high on one side of the building said it belonged to the local telephone company. Not surprising. We didn't think it would just have a three letter sign.
I slept better Monday night. We had made progress. Everything seemed to be a go if the "XYZ" boys wanted to talk contracts.
We met for breakfast the following morning. We considered more casual dress but decided to keep the environment on a high plane even if Bob and Ray didn't. Also, Alex wasn't required for the contractual discussions but we were a team and stuck together.
Tuesday, Bob and Ray met us at the same place, walked us through the same tunnel and endured the same security check as the day before, this time without a purse, car keys or a thumb drive. We met in the same room.
After a short recap of yesterday's meeting, Bob passed out copies of our standard contractual material and wooden pencils.
We began at the beginning. Where the contract specified our corporate name, Bob told us that, for security reasons, we needed to use a pseudonym. When we looked confused, he explained that the contract, once agreed to and signed, would be part of a public record, difficult to find but still public, and he didn't want anyone who reviewed the contract to know the source of the technology so they couldn't procure it for their own purposes. He mentioned a few potential international bad characters as examples. We settled on an alternate name for our company that implied we provided water proofing material for public bathrooms.
A similar problem existed with the name of the customer in the contract. When I penciled in "XYZ" he said, "That'll do for now."
Except for a break for lunch and two bathroom breaks, we spent the entire day reworking and rewording about three quarters of the contract. We stopped about six pm and agreed to start again Wednesday morning.
Wednesday was a repeat of Tuesday except we finished the contract rewrite just after lunch. An hour later, Bob handed out printed versions of the finished product including fictitious names. When we all agreed that it was accurate we signed the copies. Signing wasn't as simple as it sounded. We couldn't use our real names as they could be used to identify our company. Bob gave each of us an affidavit stating our real names and ridiculous stage names. Bob told us the affidavits would not be part of the public record but they would be available to tie us and our company to the contract if necessary. We signed the pre-notarized affidavits and then the contracts with our new names. Bob and Ray simply signed their names: "Bob" and "Ray."
